


shades of red

by quietlyobscure



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Red String of Fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 18:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17872211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietlyobscure/pseuds/quietlyobscure
Summary: The string between them, which should be a solid red, is anything but. Sure, it’s more solid than it had been the first time their teams had played against each other, but it still flickers in and out of existence like they’re two people who hardly know each other.





	shades of red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lojo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lojo/gifts).



> I'm sorry this is so late! I had a lot of trouble getting started, but then this inspiration hit me bright and early in the a.m. (4 a.m. to be exact, when I was dead asleep) and it just begged to be written! I hope that you enjoy! 
> 
> (also, thank you to [Jess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor) for an incredibly thorough beta!)

Tooru stands on the sidelines, arms crossed — intently watching the match at hand, committing the other’s teams movements to memory and trying to think of something to break through their formation.

His eyes slide up to the scoreboard and he scowls at what he sees. They’re behind — not by much, only two points — but Tooru knows that even being down by a single point is dangerous, especially since they’re in the second set. He’s hoping that they’re able to catch up, to tie those numbers and push the match into a third set.

It’s times like this when he wishes that he could still play. Tooru thinks that he’d be able to turn things around, but with his knee in the condition it’s in . . . well, he knows that the coach would be caught dead before letting him out on the court.

He feels a tug on his finger — the red string growing taut and becoming more solid, but not solid enough — but he barely spends longer than a momentary glance at it, determined to ignore that and the person it’s attached to.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

He’s never actually met the captain of the Shiratorizawa team, but Tooru is definitely familiar with him. Ushijima is known for being a strong player just by himself — he is always focused, intensely so, losing is not an option. His attitude has always grated on Tooru’s nerves, with a particular hatred of the holier-than-thou aura that Ushijima always seems to exude whenever they are anywhere near each other.

Ushijima never seems to look over at Tooru, even though they are connected to one another — even though he has to have know that he’s there.

So Tooru never takes that first step to talk to Ushijima, his soulmate. Tooru scoffs out loud as that thought runs through his mind, but Ushijima also stays away. Tooru knows that he is never really on Ushijima’s radar since he doesn’t actually play and that’s why he never even introduces himself. He isn’t important enough to warrant that level of attention.

The string between them, which should be a solid red, is anything but. Sure, it’s more solid than it had been the first time their teams had played against each other, but it still flickers in and out of existence like they’re two people who hardly know each other.  

If only his knee hadn’t been injured, things would be different. Tooru had been _good._ If he could still play, if he were able to be on the court right now, maybe that string would be solid and maybe he’d actually know his soulmate instead of only knowing about him.

Tooru’s thoughts are interrupted by the cheers, signifying that the other team has yet scored yet another point. Seijoh is down three points now, and Tooru sighs in irritation as both teams prepare for the next play.

His knee twinges as the game starts up again.

 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

 

The rest of the year flashes by in a blur.

Tooru never thought he would miss high school as much as he does, but here he is standing outside Aoba Johsai for the last time as a student. It’s surreal.

Memories that he shared with friends play through his mind: all the school activities they’d participated in together, the little pranks that they’d pulled on each other — all good things he never wants to forget.

However, it also dredges up memories of what he’d missed out on — namely, being able to play volleyball with his team. Even though he was there and had celebrated each win and suffered every loss, it was only as an acting manager and not a player, so the feeling wasn’t the same.

And his soulmate. He missed out on having memories of his soulmate even though he had been standing on the other side of the court multiple times. Yet neither of them reached out to the other, and  the string had never been solid enough for it to be the right time.

He doesn’t know if he is to blame or Ushijima.

 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

 

“Alright, that seems to be the last of it,” Tooru says as sets down the last box, sending a grateful smile over to Iwaizumi. “Thanks for helping me carry things up. Don’t think I would have lasted too long if I had to do it all my own.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Iwaizumi replies and then surveys the room, the single Tooru is lucky to have gotten. “Did you need help unpacking? I have some time left before I need to go.”

Tooru shakes his head. “Oh, no. It’s fine. I can take things from here.”

“Then I’m definitely helping,” Iwaizumi says, and he turns to the closest box. “If left to your own devices, you’ll let these sit as long as possible.”

_Which . . . isn’t wrong_ , Tooru thinks. He’s awful at unpacking, content to let things linger in their boxes until absolutely necessary. Iwaizumi knows him and his habits all too well, and is always dead set on making sure he doesn’t get away with putting things off.

The process goes by quickly with Iwaizumi’s help — clothes put away, pictures placed on the dresser, textbooks and notebooks stowed on the corner of the desk. It almost feels like he’s back at home in his room, and that at any given moment his mother will burst through his door and tell him dinner is ready.

“You okay? Your knee isn’t bothering you, is it?”

“Huh? Wha—?” Tooru shakes his head in confusion. “No, I’m fine? I was thinking about how this reminds me of being home. I didn’t mean to get distracted, sorry.”

“It’s fine. You just spaced out, so I was just making sure everything was alright.” Iwaizumi shrugs and checks his phone. He lets out a long and weary groan. “I have to go or I’m going to be late on my first day of class. I’m going to have to book it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just say that you don’t want to be around me anymore and go,” Tooru says even as he shepherds Iwaizumi toward the door.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Got it,” Tooru says, rolling his eyes and shoves Iwaizumi out the door again. This time, however, he uses his other hand — the hand that has the red string attached to it — and he’s distracted by how much more solid the red string is, how little it’s flickering.

There’s a strange fluttering in his stomach at the sight. He doesn’t hear when Iwaizumi finally leaves, or when the door closes behind him.

He doesn’t want to meet Ushijima, doesn’t want to talk to him.

The thought of knowing that he was more than likely deemed _not good enough_ to speak with in high school because he wasn’t a top tier volleyball player was stuck at the forefront of his mind. He has no desire to associate himself with someone who acts like that.

But it is going to happen soon, and there is nothing Tooru can do to prevent it.

 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

 

Even though Tooru knows it’s inevitable, he’s still taken by surprise at the sight of the string finally becoming a solid red.

He feels like he’s not really there, like he’s drifting through consciousness, and he hates it. Tooru wants to hide in his room and dodge first contact by any means necessary. Maybe the string will go back to flickering if he tries hard enough to change things.

But fate is not on his side.

Before he knows it, he is dragged out of his dorm by a very excitable Hanamaki and Matsukawa. They are determined to make sure Tooru doesn’t try to get out of everything. Tooru never has to say anything when he gets to feeling like this; the two of them always seem to know when he needs to be around someone, even if he doesn’t really want to be.

“We’re going to save you from yourself,” Hanamaki says matter-of-factly, hands on his hips and leaning towards Tooru. “And to do that, we’re going to grab food, because everybody knows that all issues of the world can be solved by eating.”

“All _your_ issues can be solved by eating,” Matsukawa replies, one of his hands resting on Tooru’s back, blocking off Tooru’s potential escape route.

They banter as they continue on the way, Hanamaki taking the lead and Matsuka continuing to corral Tooru.

Tooru ignores them, fixating on the appearance of the string — how it looks now that it’s a solid glowing red, growing more taut the closer they get to their destination. He wants to scurry back to his room, but the feeling of Matsukawa’s hand on his back caging him in keeps him forging ahead.

It feels like everything is moving in slow motion. Tooru knows any moment can be _that_ moment and he’s just waiting for it to happen.

“Where are we going?” Tooru asks as soon as he hears a lull in the conversation around him, looking around at the unfamiliar buildings around them and wonders just how far they’ve been walking.

“I just searched for popular restaurants in the area and picked the first one that popped up,” Hanamaki answers. “I hope you’re down for some experimentation, because this place is apparently a fusion and they always have interesting combinations.”

Tooru isn’t; he likes to keep things familiar, likes the comfort that familiarity brings. However, his friends seem to be excited for the experience, so Tooru keeps quiet. The conversation picks up again, blending into the sounds of the city.

Suddenly, Hanamaki stops and Tooru nearly runs into him, his hands going up to brace himself for impact. Tooru sends a glare at the back of Hanamaki’s head, willing him to look back so he can see just how frustrated Tooru was by the sudden lack of movement and no footfalls to deafen his racing thoughts.

“I’m guessing this is it?” Matsukawa asked, his voice sounding dry and unimpressed from behind Tooru. “There. . .really isn’t much to it, is there?”

They were standing in front of a run-down brick building, the windows giving them a view of a nearly empty and equally run-down looking inside. Tooru understands Matsukawa’s disinterest now that he’s seen what the restaurant looks like.

“I think it’s charming,” Hanamaki counters, raising a hand to touch the bricks. “It’s a little hole in the wall, and those are always charming.”

“If you say so.” Matsukawa sounds reluctant to agree, but follows when Hanamaki steps through the door. He glances at Tooru, holding the door open, and raises an expectant eyebrow. “Come on, you know that we’re not going to let you just stand out here. We’re not doing carry-out.”

Tooru rolls his eyes but he sweeps past Matsukawa inside the building.

They’re greeted and seated quickly, a contrast to the eternity it took for them to get there in the first place. The waitress is cordial enough, a seemingly genuine smile on her face as she introduces herself to them and doles out the menus.

Tooru supposes that no matter how the food turns out, at least the staff is friendly.

 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

 

It’s not until they’re leaving that he runs into Ushijima, and quite literally at that.

Tooru takes the lead in their exit, but his attention doesn’t extend to what is on the other side of the door.

“I’m so—” Tooru starts to say, but he swallows his reflexive apology when he sees who he blundered into. His breath catches in his throat, his voice rough when he corrects himself. Hoping he sounds contrite, he amends, “I’m sorry about that. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going.”

“It’s fine,” Ushijima mumbles, and Tooru sees that his gaze is locked on the string — finally fully solid and pulled tight and —

Tooru feels his chest go tight, and it’s hard to breathe again. He has to get out of there, has to be as far away as possible.

He’s only able to relieve his aching lungs when he’s back in his dorm, the walls surrounding him becoming a barrier between him and anything on the outside.

 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

 

After that day, though,Ushijima is everywhere Tooru goes. They run into each other throughout the campus between courses — which should be near impossible considering how many students are there —  and Tooru even spies Ushijima out and about doing mundane errands.

The string seeming to never lose its slack, always pulled taut, and it’s driving him insane.

At first, Tooru flees as soon as he sees Ushijima, and he doesn’t care how obvious it is that he is avoiding any sort of interaction between them.

However, Ushijima is nothing if not insistent.

Eventually, Tooru stops trying to avoid him. Someone trying that hard deserved to at least be heard, right? At least that’s what he hears collectively from Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, _and_ Matsukawa. He decides they all can’t be wrong (maybe) and perhaps he should listen.

The conversation starts out stilted, neither knowing what to say or how to say it, nothing but pleasantries that fade into silence until one of them has to excuse himself for class or for some other prior engagement.

The running into each other in campus turns into them eating lunch together. The conversation still awkward between them, eventually it begins to flow more naturally. They start talking about things a little deeper than how nice the weather is this time of year.

Then Ushijima starts bringing gifts — little things, like chocolates and trinkets that Tooru doesn’t know what to do with. There is no rhyme or reason to the gifts he receives. As long as it can be loosely categorized as giftable, it finds itself in Tooru’s possession.

And Tooru just can’t find it in himself to reject any of them, even if he doesn’t particularly care for them and has no idea what to do with the constantly mounting pile of them in his dorm.

It’s cute the way Ushijima seeks him out everyday, hands him his bauble and waits for Tooru’s reaction. He isn’t too sure what to do with the emotions unearthed by his feelings towards Ushijima are evolving, which are far more amicable than hostile, but that’s exactly how things are going. He even finds that he isn’t even angry at how things had been in the past anymore.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you,” Ushijima admits when Tooru finally finds the courage to bring it up. “My mother told me to focus on what I was good at. I was good at volleyball, not people.”

It’s said so nonchalantly and Tooru feels a pang of guilt rush through him. He had stewed for so long about being overlooked because he hadn’t been good enough, yet that is the furthest thing from the reality of it.

Before Tooru can say anything, Ushijima shrugs and changes the subject.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

 

“You don’t have to keep giving me things,” Tooru says, eyeing the trinket Ushijima decides he needs wearily.

“Isn’t that how I’m supposed to show you that I’m interested, though?” Ushijima tilts his head. He seems so confused, and god help him, Tooru can’t help but find it cute.

“I mean, I guess that is one way to show that you’re interested,” Tooru replies, and he shoves the item into his backpack. “But, you could also just . . . ask?”

“Ask what?”

“Me on a date,” Tooru says, as if it’s the most obvious thing. And to him, even if it may be a little self-absorbed, it is.

The look on Ushijima’s face morphs into one of understanding as he realizes what it is he’s being given permission to ask.

“Well, there is this movie playing in a cinema downtown th—”

But Ushijima is cut off by Tooru placing a hand over his mouth, eyes rolling and lips curled into a smile.

“Yes, I’ll go with you.”

  



End file.
